


Don't let go and stay with me

by drinkingstars



Category: Actor RPF, Ibiza (Movie 2018), Rocketman (2019) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dick Jokes, Like a Little Plot, M/M, Madderton AU, Meet-Cute, Porn With Plot, Recreational Drug Use, might make you want to listen to EDM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:00:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25948468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drinkingstars/pseuds/drinkingstars
Summary: You wanna shag first and then decide your future?
Relationships: Taron Egerton/Leo West, Taron Egerton/Richard Madden, if you squint
Comments: 14
Kudos: 32





	Don't let go and stay with me

**Author's Note:**

> if you've seen Ibiza this will make immediate sense, and it's exactly what it sounds like. if you haven't seen it but you're into Richard Madden, goodness, please love yourself and go watch it immediately. 
> 
> do heed the tag for recreational drug use - it's along the lines of what's in the film, probably even less debaucherous. 
> 
> thank you [wearemany](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearemany/pseuds/wearemany) for the story idea and consultation ♥ thank you [mordwen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mordwen/pseuds/phoenix_rose) for the detailed and extremely helpful beta ♥

Taron hates clubs. He hates clubbing and club people and the relentless electronic pings of noise over the soulless, robotic bass lines. He’s here because one of his Aber boys has, against all odds, landed a cute girlfriend who wants to go clubbing in London for her 30th birthday, and Taron opened his big mouth and said he could get them all VIP. He wanted to go along and be a good mate, and he almost never uses his stupid newly found posh boy access to  _ places _ and people and  _ things _ because he hates all that shit (except for the clothes. The clothes are aces, no complaints.) 

This way at least they’re in a swanky roped off area with table service. No queuing to get in either: they got whisked straight to their booth and handed drinks on arrival. So, it’s not all bad, and the boys and their respective guys and girls are having a time. Bleddyn passes around a bit of  _ something _ at about 11pm, and Taron starts to feel it creep into the edges of his perception. He can tell it’s definitely working when he hates the music a little less and finds himself...almost enjoying it? 

It makes him want to move his body, and be closer to other people. Bleddyn and Tom look like they’re feeling it too, so he grabs them both and drags them down the little staircase out of their booth where they can press against the edges of the proper dance floor, thrumming with bodies. Everyone is glittery and neon-streaked and seems to want to manhandle Taron as he moves along the crowd, but not in a grabby way, just in a ‘wow, I really feel part of humanity’ kind of way, and oh, wow he’s really high, yes. He throws his head back on Bleddyn’s shoulder and roars out a laugh no one can hear over the music and Bleddyn wraps his arm around him for support. 

“Oi, you’re always such a lightweight, I forget that,” Bleddyn yells in his ear and Taron grins stupidly at him and gives him a big smooch on the cheek. 

“Cheap date, you mean,” Taron giggles, sticking his tongue out. Bleddyn arches an eyebrow and looks just past Taron, over his shoulder, and Taron’s brain slowly registers someone dancing into his peripheral vision. He turns and sees a boy in silver body paint and fairy wings, shimmying around them and handing out lollipops. Tom laughs and grabs a few of them to shove in his pockets, but Taron declines. He’s high but he’s not ‘taking candy from a club kid he doesn’t know’ high. The kid grins and leans in with what Taron dearly hopes is just a regular marker but is probably drugs, and doodles something on his cheek. Great. The fairy tousles Taron’s hair in parting and flits off, and Taron tries to ask the boys what’s on his cheek, but they’re jumping up and down as the music picks up in a frenzy and the crowd gets carried away toward the drop, and Taron forgets all about it.

They go back up in their booth between DJ sets to rehydrate and re-tox with varying values of vodka, tequila and soda water with lemons. Bleddyn sees soundboards and DJ equipment being fiddled with and predictably gets an audio geek boner, so Taron goes with him to peer over the edge of the booth at the stage, the lights swirling up at them in a trippy whirl.

There’s a guy on stage, dark, artfully mussed hair with a shock of silver up front, who makes Taron do a double and then triple take, trying to focus his eyes, because  _ damn.  _ Taron hasn’t gotten laid in a bit, and that is, soundly, drugs or not, one of the hottest men Taron has seen in a year. 

The guy maybe senses two dorks from Wales staring down at him because he glances up, fuck, and makes eye contact with Taron after a beat. He smirks, makes a quizzical face that knits his eyebrows together and quirks his lips up at Taron which makes him even cuter, oh shit, and Bleddyn elbows Taron in the ribs, hard.

“Is he…” Bleddyn tries to ask but Taron can’t take his eyes off the guy on the stage. Taron tilts his head in question and the guy smiles up, nods his head, and motions with his hand a clear invite to...come down there? What? Taron looks over his shoulder, but there’s no one else it could be. He feels stupid as hell but he slowly, laboriously brings one finger up to point at himself and gets a quick nod in return. 

“Uhhhh, right,” Taron stammers and Bleddyn gives him a shove in the direction of their stairs. Tom has joined now in time to watch Taron suffer, noisily cheering him on as he sucks on a lollipop.

“You’ve been summoned, go on, loverboy,” Tom crows, crackling his teeth on candy, and Bleddyn hoots.

Taron creases his forehead and grabs a quick shot of something off the table. “Maybe he likes my movies. Fuck if I know. Right, back straight away,” he says with a shrug, knocking back a tequila.

“Do not come back straight or away,” Bleddyn chirps and pushes him off.

He makes his way down the little staircase and is preparing to explain to security that someone asked for him, but he is allowed to step right from their stairs onto the stage. Because VIP, right.

The hot guy looks up and his face lights up with...something, at seeing Taron is there on the stage. He holds up a finger for him to wait one second, and Taron does, shifting a bit awkwardly and daring to look out at the huge crowd. He’s high but a stage is a stage, and he can see the appeal from this point of view, the power of holding all these peoples’ emotions in the palm of your hand. He gnaws on his lip and bobs his head to the house music that’s playing while the tech guys down here set up...whatever, he has no idea how this works. 

He’s just starting to panic what he’s doing here when the good-looking one finally sets down his headphones and steps away toward him, gestures with his head for Taron to follow him, and  _ shit _ what is happening? He glances back up at VIP and sees all his gang crowded over the rail to follow his humiliation down here and cheering him on. They are  _ actually _ the worst. 

They go off stage and get waved into a tiny green room with an even tinier bar, a bartender handing out comped beers to hot girls and financier-looking guys. Taron follows, his eyes adjusting to the new colours of lights slowly. He is so confused.

“Ok, I don’t want you to panic,” the hot guy says when they’re in a small corner quiet enough to speak in a conversational volume and whoa, the bloke’s Scottish. Did not see that one coming. Taron is dizzy as the guy talks to him. 

“What?” Taron asks dumbly, utterly lost.

“It’s just that you’ve got...something on your face,” the guy says, biting his lip. It’s distracting.

“My face? Yeah, I’ve been in some films.” Taron has to play back through what he just said to even process it. His brain finally catches up, too late. “Wait, what about my face?” The hot guy is laughing, but not maliciously. There’s a ring light for a photobooth and a little makeup mirror attached, and the guy takes it down, hands it to Taron.

“Oh, I see...well, movie star, there’s a giant cock on your face, and I wasn’t sure if you wanted it there?” He says, trying to be helpful, probably, but Taron’s brain got stuck around the word  _ cock _ and hasn’t proceeded forward. His eyes finally make their jittery way to focusing on his image in the mirror and there is a shimmery, day-glo, anatomically correct cock and balls outlined on his cheek. 

“Ahhh bloody hell fuck stupid fucking fairy,” Taron blurts out all at once and the hot guy’s brows go up in alarm. Taron plays that all back through and trips over his tongue. “No, no, like, he had fairy wings on, little cheeky wanker. Like...wings.” Taron flaps his shoulder muscles in a stoned approximation of what he would look like flying with wings. So this is going  _ great. _

The hot guy leans his head back and nods in understanding. “Got it. Alright, in that case...may I?” This absolutely godly-looking gentleman of a club...bloke…has produced a handkerchief from his pocket and is wetting it with fancy bottled water. He leans in to dab it at Taron’s cheek and the touch of the soft, cool fabric to his warm skin reminds him that he is, in fact, still quite high. He shivers and smiles a little giddily, can’t help it.

“I’m Leo,” the guy says, a soft smile at one corner of his lips.

“Taron,” he says, a bit thick and slow in response, but he thinks he said it right.

“Did the fairy maybe uh, slip you somethin’ else? You feelin’ ok?” Leo frowns a bit, and Taron immediately misses that smile. His brow furrows as his brain tries to chase it.  _ Yikes, _ he is really high. 

He shakes his head no, nods, mm hmm yes, shakes again, no,  _ tries _ to pull it together but is not doing a smashing job of it. “No, I mean yes I feel amazing, but no, I’m ok? My friend gave it to me. It’s good. I’m good, really. Just a bit of a lightweight,” he tells Leo, a little embarrassed but the guy seemed genuinely concerned Taron had been drugged, which is oddly...sweet.

“Aha. Well. You’re now cock-free. Er, your face. Is all better now. I mean, not that you didn’t look cute with it,” Leo says and then seems to catch himself. Taron’s feeble brain somehow tracks that fast enough for him to catch.

“Cute?” he grins. Leo cocks his head and Taron feels himself blush. “Anyway, thanks. Do you, um…” Taron looks around for whatever he is offering or suggesting here, his mind blank again. “I’m just going to be honest with you, I’m on a lot of drugs right now. But you could come have a drink? With me...oh and my arsehole friends who didn’t tell me I had a dick on my face,” he babbles and Leo laughs.

“The blacklights...they shine back at me. They probably couldn’t see it. So don’t be  _ too _ hard on them,” Leo says. He’s so  _ nice,  _ Taron thinks. But also.

“Hard. Heh.” Taron says and immediately hates himself. He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Sorry.”

Leo laughs. “‘S’alright. And I would, you know, have a drink with you and your arsehole friends. But I’ve got to go onstage soon. So,” Leo trails off and Taron slowly focuses back on his face, yep, still hot, and wait — 

“Oh.  _ Oh, _ you’re one of the DJ’s?” Taron asks, trying to fit this into what he knows about clubs and electronic music and it is very, very little.

Leo smiles. “Eh, yeah. I’m like,  _ the  _ DJ, I guess. This is my show,” he explains, almost apologetically, and bites on his lip, eying Taron curiously. “You uh...this isn’t your scene, I take it?” 

“No, sorry. It really isn’t,” Taron says, then immediately adds, “But I’m really excited to hear you. I bet you’re...you’re probably great.”

“I’m alright, I reckon. Alright then, well, enjoy, Taron,” Leo says, but Taron is kind of in this now and he’s not quite ready to say goodbye.

“Wait. I didn’t know who you were. Did you know who I was? Not being a cunt, just genuinely curious now,” Taron asks carefully, touching Leo’s arm just to reinforce the connection and oh, that’s a nice arm.

Leo ducks his head. “You did look...quite familiar,” he says, after thinking a moment. “And it is a bit...weird. I feel like I know you? I figured you just had one of those faces.”

“One of those faces with a giant dick on it,” Taron cuts in.

Leo laughs softly, then goes to the bar and asks the bartender for something. “Listen, I’ve got to get out there. Maybe I’ll see you after? I mean. I hope,” Leo says, turning back to Taron and touching his arm. “Is this...is this ok? Am I supposed to like, put my number in your mobile?” He has a small piece of paper between two fingers, and Taron feels warm all over as he takes it.

“Um, no, writing on paper is. Great. Cool.” He pockets it, then feels a late surge of the chemicals in his system and goes in for a full hug. Leo’s hug is assuring, and strong, and Taron just wants to sink into his arms and stay there. “Ok. You...have a great, um, gig?” Taron sputters and Leo laughs softly in his arms, pats him on the back.

“Set,” Leo supplies.

“Set. Yep. Uh, break a leg, I guess,” Taron tries as he sighs, and it takes everything in him, will power and drugs and all, to pull away. 

“That’ll work fine,” Leo grins, still holding onto Taron’s hand a little too long and when Taron lets go Leo somehow stumbles backwards.

He catches himself on the bar, and Taron tries not to laugh too hard.

“No one saw that,” Leo says, playing it off.

“Nope, just me,” Taron says and turns to go for real or he’s never going to.

“Yeah but you had a dick on your face, what do you know?” Leo says and damn it, he’s got Taron good.

Taron points at his cheek as he walks away. Then, inexplicably, makes the universal  _ jerking-off  _ hand gesture at his own face. 

Well,  _ that  _ will make sure he doesn’t forget me, Taron swears at himself, as he finally drags his arse back out to the front of house, and upstairs to his arsehole friends.

“Did you get his number?” “What happened?” “Do you know who that is?” a bunch of them ask him all at once. Taron reaches in his pocket.

“This says his name is Leo?” Taron says, holding up the scrap of paper with his number on it, reaching for some soda water to cool him down.

The boys slow-clap him, actually returning with a number, but it’s Joe’s girlfriend Kelly who yells in delight and touches her chest, takes the paper from Taron, looking at it almost reverently, beaming from ear to ear. “That was Leo fucking West.”

***

Leo’s set is like nothing Taron has ever heard. He feels...lifted and transported by the music in a way he doesn’t remember feeling before. Everything he does just builds so carefully, artfully, taking the crowd along in his hold as he changes up the sounds and beats and the lights flash along with everyone’s state of rapture. And Leo is so,  _ so hot _ doing what he does, fucking hell. Taron is stunned, just awestruck. 

He turns to Bleddyn halfway through Leo’s spellbinding performance and asks him if he slipped them all more drugs when he wasn’t looking. Bleddyn just shakes his head. Taron looks at Kelly, eyes wide and then shows her with both hands on the sides of his head how mind-blown he is. 

She nods excitedly and bounces on her feet, almost taking off into the air. “He’s a proper fucking artist!” she yells, squeezing Taron’s shoulder as Leo brings them ecstatically to another drop that catches everyone’s breath in their chests, a collective gasp and orgasmic shriek from the crowd filling the air. Fucking  _ wow,  _ is all Taron can think.

Leo finishes his set and the house DJ comes back on, and nothing is going to compare to what they’ve just experienced. The Aber boys can’t leave a drop of alcohol undrunk on the table of course, so they do a quick round of clean-up chugging while Taron signs the bill and tips generously for the mess they’ve left.

They clear out into the misty London street and start loudly debating where to go for dodgy chips and gravy. Taron is just wrapping his head around the idea of eating food, and maybe a milkshake, when Kelly holds out her phone excitedly. “This EDM instagram says Leo West is playing a secret set in Shoreditch in an hour. Wanna go?” She shimmies her shoulders enticingly and Taron looks over his friends’ faces. 

“Taron can text him and ask him,” Joe points out, annoyingly, and Taron rolls his eyes.

“I can’t text him and ask him that, he’ll think I’m some kind of stalker!” Taron argues. 

“But he gave you his number,” Bleddyn says. “He wants you to use it.”

“Yes, but only because he thought I didn’t know who he was,” Taron tries to reason this.  _ He _ gets it in  _ his _ head. 

“But you didn’t know who he was,” Kelly points out.

“Yes, exactly! He’ll think he made a terrible mistake. I cannot text him already, I just can’t. Look, let’s go check out this party for like an hour. I’ll text him later, more casual like, and see if maybe he’s there. Then after I look like an arsehole we go get  _ good _ dodgy food and I buy?” Taron offers.

Bleddyn and Tom confer on this, and come back with their counter demands. “Polo Bar breakfast. And you were already gonna buy, let’s be real.”

“Deal,” Taron says, and they go down to get the Tube.

***

Taron’s minor celebrity has no pull at this kind of party, and it’s Kelly who knows some kind of password that gets them right in with no problem. It’s fun enough, in a much smaller space than the first, massive, cavernous club. Bleddyn passes around a tiny booster for everyone’s mood since they’re feeling kind of wiped, and there are energy drinks with all kinds of supposedly beneficial substances in them on offer, mixed with vodka of course, which negates them all. 

They have a good time, and the music is excellent actually, now that Taron considers himself a bit of an EDM connoisseur. He and Kelly groove near but not  _ too _ near the DJ stand, and yell and laugh a lot. Bleddyn makes out with a very cute guy with a lip ring, and Taron keeps an eye out for Leo.

Around 3 am they are all pretty faded. Taron finally caves and agrees to text him, but it never goes through anyway. They decide to call it a night, and Taron plies them all with the earlier promised banoffee pancakes and brie and bacon butties. 

In bed around dawn, he looks up Leo’s tour schedule online, then mindlessly scrolls through hot pictures of him — Leo doesn’t even have an instagram account, but he has a hashtag — until he’s exhausted. Taron can’t shake the feeling there was really some kind of connection there, that it wasn’t just the drugs and the heady atmosphere. He fingers the slip of paper with Leo’s number on it until he falls asleep.

***   
There’s no Glastonbury this year but Tom has found them another music festival, about a day’s drive. They can go in Taron’s newly acquired campervan, and spend nights under the stars, just like at Glasto but a bit posher on the sleeping arrangements. Taron has a list in his head of bands he wants to see, but they never make so much as a schedule or anything. They just get drunk and muddy and see whoever, and hug and cry on each other a lot. The best kind of friends. 

They’re on their way, and Bleddyn’s messing around with the playlists on the sound system when Taron hears him inhale sharply and hold his phone up for Tom to look at.

“Ohhhh shit. The lads’ weekend has taken a twist,” Tom says, wraps his arm around Taron’s neck in the driver’s seat.

“What? What’s happening? Please don’t choke me while I’m driving,” Taron protests and focuses on the road.

“Your hot DJ is doing a Saturday set. Just added,” Bleddyn shows him and Taron can see the picture of Leo out of the corner of his eye, one of his favorites from his promo photos. Not that he was creeping on him. Ah, fuck.

“K. I’ll...text him, I guess,” Taron says quietly, bubbling with nervous excitement inside.

“Ahhh yeah you will!” They both squeal at him, slapping him on the back. He grins and keeps driving, finally sucks it up and texts Leo again when they stop for the night, and it definitely goes through this time. 

Leo calls him back. No one  _ calls _ Taron. He almost doesn’t know what to do when his phone rings.

“Hi, er. Sorry if it’s weird to call?” Leo says to start. Taron ducks away from the boys and finds a quiet log to sit on.

“It’s alright. Though I admit, I assume something dreadful has happened when my phone rings.”

“No, no, not at all. Just uh, alone in a hotel and thought it’d be nice to hear a voice.”

“Sure, I can do that. Be that. Uh...sorry, usually much better at the word making. I’m eh, in the woods with my friends. Somewhere between Sheffield and Stocksbridge,” Taron says, reaches out to take the beer Bleddyn is passing him, making kissy faces at Taron’s phone as he does. Taron flips him off, but takes the beer.

“What the feck you doing out there?” Leo asks, sounding aghast and amused and so deeply, deeply Scottish.

“We like to do a camping trip every summer. Usually Glasto but we’re, uh, on our way to Springfest?” Taron says, a hopeful uptick in his voice.

“You are? Seriously? Did you know I’m playing?” Leo asks, sounding excited and Taron lets himself feel a little melty.

“My friend literally just told me on the way here. I wasn’t like, you know….”

“‘S’ fine if you were,” Leo says quickly, and  _ oh. _

“Oh. Okay, well, we’ll definitely come check you out. You were, just, brilliant the other night. Seriously. I haven’t shut up about you. Your set, I mean. Your set was great,” Taron tries to correct and winds up flustered, takes a huge sip of his beer.

“I haven’t...uh, it was nice to...” Leo seems to struggle for the right word and Taron laughs sympathetically, bites his lip. “I’m glad I spotted you with the dick on your face. Tha’s all.”

“Right,” Taron feels himself flush and shakes it off. “So we’ll find you at your set, then.”

“No, no, you can come backstage, let’s meet before. If ye can, I mean?” Leo asks, and what the fuck. Of course Taron can.

“I’ll...sure. I’ll text you when we get there. And you have my number, so. If you need...uh, anything?”

Leo laughs. “I will.”

“God. Alright. Hanging up now before I say something that makes me less cute.”

“Impossible.” Leo pauses, then takes a deep breath. “Right. That’s me off, then. Have fun in the woods. You know those legends about that area are just stories right?”

“Wait, wha—”

“Be safe, see you soon. Lots of love.” Leo says when he hangs up and Taron is left staring, befuddled, at his phone.

***

They grill some dinner and drink beers, and Taron passes out between his boys on the pop-up bed, just like always. No one gets murdered, thank you  _ very _ much, Leo.

When they get to the festival, they pay extra to park closer to the vendors and loos, and find a nice spot to camp. There's a funk-ska-jazz band Tom really wants to see, so Taron tries to text Leo while they wait for them to come on. He can’t tell if it’s going through or not, so he texts Bleddyn to test it...nothing.

“Fuck.” Taron shoves his phone in his pocket and looks around the huge grounds.

“So our phones don’t fuckin’ work, alright. Figure it out. He doesn’t go on for a couple hours, right?” Bleddyn says, trying to snap him out of brooding.

“Yeah but. Look at this place. There’s like four stages...all those caravans. He could be anywhere.”

Tom cuffs him roughly on the head. “God, Taron, that head of yours sometimes. He ain’t here with all of us, is he? He’s glamping somewhere or in the closest, poshest hotel. He’s a fucking star,” Tom says.

“Ok...how does that help me when my phone doesn’t work?” Taron says, frustrated.

Bleddyn rolls his eyes. “You’re a  _ fucking star, too,  _ arsehole. Use your fucking pull for once, god.”

“I don’t wanna do that. I’m terrible at it, I’m not that guy, Bledd, come on, you know that.”

Tom grabs him by the shoulders and levels with him. “Taron, I love you dearly, but the humble lad from Aber thing has its limits. You don’t have to be ‘that guy’ all the time. And please don’t or I’ll fuckin’ sock you.”

Bleddyn nods in agreement. “Seriously, man. A little bit of ‘that guy’ is all it takes and you’re gonna smash this DJ.”

Tom cheers behind Bleddyn, claps his hands. “We want what’s best for you Taron. And what’s best for you, right now, at this pivotal juncture in your career, nay, life…is to smash this DJ.”

Taron squints at both of them, feels like he’s being ganged up on. However...they make solid points. “You’re both absolutely ridiculous. But.”

“C’mon, T, another year of you rolling your tits off and hanging all over us so nobody ever chats us up? Or you go smash the hottest guy on the fuckin’ planet and then hop on whatever rich guy private jet he flies in to Ibiza and we’ll see you in a few months?” Tom says, incredulous.

“Alright, when you put it that way...ok, so what do I...do? I told you I’m absolute shite at this.”

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty,” Tom says, narrowing his eyes.

“Seriously Taron, do you know how many times you've waved us off from a red carpet and said ‘just find me after!’ And do you know what that entails for us?” Bleddyn sighs. 

Taron frowns. “Sorry boys. They just point me and tell me where to go.”

“It’s fine mate, we got this,” Tom butts in, scans the direction of the stage. “Look for someone like a tour manager, or a production company exec. They might have a headset, but not a uniform. Probably overdressed, look like they showered this morning, which sets them apart from this lot. And tour laminates. Preferably a woman or a cute gay bloke, but I can improvise,” Tom winks. 

“I bet you can,” Bleddyn says under his breath, then fixes his gaze on the soundboard. “Around the mixing booth. Sound is the best. That's where they’ll put VIP’s.”

***

“Knew that would work,” Bleddyn says. “Sometimes I’ve been the publicist.”

Tom nods. “I’m always the reporter.”

The talent coordinator who brings the VIP guests from backstage to the seats  _ loves _ Taron in  _ Kingsman, _ and one hundred percent believes Taron was supposed to meet a reporter here for an interview but can’t find his publicist. 

Taron kisses them both on the cheek in gratitude, then slaps his palm over his face, clearly hearing them clapping and chanting at him, ‘Smash this DJ! Smash this DJ!’ as the coordinator whisks him backstage.

She apologizes for Taron’s terrible inconvenience and takes him to the tour manager, whose kids just adore that gorilla in  _ Sing _ , who takes him to the fake VIP back area and puts a glass of sparkling wine in his hand for his trouble while she radios production. 

A production guy shows up out of nowhere who honest-to-god knows Matthew Vaughn. Taron didn’t quite believe him at first but he seems to know more about Taron’s next film than Taron does. 

He gets Taron a whole  _ bottle _ of champagne from the bar sponsor, who just wants a quick photo for their instagram, and then the production guy ( _ Tim? Dan?  _ Fuck, his brain) wants one to send Matthew because he just  _ won’t  _ believe it, but after all that, he drops him off directly with Leo’s manager, who, thank  _ god,  _ had been told Taron might be showing up and to please keep an eye out for him. 

Behind the fake VIP drinks corral is the real VIP caravan, production trailers, full-size bathrooms and luxury RVs parked amongst the trees, all outlined in twinkling lights. Leo’s manager takes Taron, bottle of chilled champagne in hand, to a nice RV three times the size of his van and rings the doorbell for him, then steps aside.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Leo says when the door swings open.

Taron holds up the bottle. “They uh, didn’t let me come through empty-handed.”

“I see that. Come on in,” Leo holds the door open and it’s all Taron can do not to drop the bottle on the ground and press him up against the wall right then and there. He takes a steadying breath and steps inside, feels Leo’s hand graze the small of his back as the trailer door closes behind him.

There’s a bar in front of the bay window and Taron takes the first opportunity he has to set the bottle down and free his hands up. 

It’s a good thing too, because as soon as he turns back to face him, Leo is already up in his space and they’re a hair’s breadth from kissing. 

“Too fast?” Leo asks but his hands are settling into place on Taron’s hips, his face already tilted perfectly for Taron’s. 

“Fuck no,” Taron says and leans in to match Leo, their lips brushing, pressing, feeling each other out.

Taron brings his hands to Leo’s waist. He’s trim and fit and his back feels so strong. Taron groans against his mouth and Leo responds with a trace of his tongue across Taron’s lips. Taron hasn’t been properly made out with in a while and this is going pretty nicely. 

“Good. That was...good,” he says, rather astutely, when Leo draws back, a curious smirk on his face.

“Really was,” Leo agrees and pulls him back in. 

“Wait, do you have to like…” Taron tries to ask mid-making out and Leo sets his jaw, looks up at the ceiling. 

“Go on stage?” Leo finishes while Taron takes advantage of the position of his upturned chin to sneak a taste of his neck.

“Yeah, that,” Taron breathes around a tiny bite of Leo’s throat — just a nip, he’s not trying to leave a mark on a guy he barely knows, no matter how hot it would be.

“Aye, I do. How long are you here for?” Leo asks hopefully, sliding his hands down Taron’s sides and nestling them under the creases of his thighs and ass. 

“Tonigh...all night? Um. I hope?” he laughs, distracted by the position of Leo’s grip.

Leo shakes his head, laughing too. “No, like, all weekend? I’m playing a late night set, Sunday. Well, Monday morning, since it’s like, 4am,” Leo explains, and Taron figures that’s a common stumbling point for figuring out days and times when you’re a big shot DJ.

“Errr, right. I have a meeting Monday, in London. Shit timing, but. It’s been a beast to put together. We were going to leave tomorrow afternoon.”

Leo furrows his brow. “Damn. Work stuff?”

“It's uh, Elton John,” Taron says, still almost choking just saying his name out loud.

“Leaving tomorrow it is, then,” Leo agrees straightaway, and Taron bites his lip, lets his hips tilt a little toward Leo’s.

“I wish I could...that sounds amazing,” Taron says as Leo kisses along his jaw toward his ear. His stubble, teeth and tongue tickle the sensitive skin and make Taron shiver.

“Ehhh, something tells me that’s a  _ bit _ more important than watching me fade Galantis tracks while the sun comes up and everyone’s drugs wear off all at once.”

“Actually that sounds quite relevant to this project,” Taron grins and kisses Leo again, licks at his soft lips until Leo lets him in and then they start to lose track of time. 

Leo’s intensity and attention to Taron when he’s making out with him reminds Taron in startling clarity how long it’s been, how touch deprived he feels. One hook-up is hardly going to be enough, he starts to worry, getting ahead of himself. His mind wanders until Leo pulls his focus back to his mouth, to slow, lovely, deep kissing.

Eventually, a knock on their door brings them back to reality. “Right. My set.” Leo finally says, shaking his head clear as he lets go of Taron, regrettably fixing both of their clothes that are just a bit askew. “Want to ride with me on a fucking golf cart?”

Taron nods slowly, touches his lips, tingling with kissing. “Yes, I absolutely do, and I’m bringing the champagne.”

***

The ride to the main stage is much too short, but they have time to kiss a little, drink a little, and come up with a solid plan for meeting up again after and holing themselves up as quickly as possible in Leo’s hotel suite in town. 

“Trust me,” Leo explains, “the band staying next door to my trailer are a bunch of wankers.” Taron nods, kisses him one last time before Leo heads off to check his gear, and then goes out into the crowd to find Bleddyn and Tom, three extra laminates in his pocket just in case.

His boys are right where he expects them, and Leo’s set in a huge, open air crowd is somehow even more thrilling, the elation more dizzying, the colourful lights flickering in every direction and reflecting off the tall trees in the forest all around them even more magical. And he’s not even  _ high  _ tonight, but he’s so fucking happy he can’t stop grinning. Bleddyn and Tom give him so much shit about Leo, as is their duty as best mates, but he doesn’t care. 

“So we’re driving ourselves back to London, I take it?” Bleddyn whisper-yells in his ear in a chill, spacey moment when Taron isn’t actively jumping up and down and flailing about to the amazing layers of sound Leo is creating.

“Um...still thinking on that,” Taron says, wrapping his arm around Bleddyn and pulling him in close.

“Give me the keys now, in case we don't see you again,” Bleddyn grins, kisses Taron on the head and holds out his hand expectantly. Tom looks over and sees Taron give in, sheepishly yet smugly reach into his pocket and hand over the keys.

“Ha! Knew it,” Tom jumps in, rubs his knuckles playfully but a bit painfully into Taron’s skull.

“Just figuring it out, but yeah, take my keys just in case. Sorry, lads.”

“Happy for you, mate, and god knows you’ve earned a good shagging, but don’t fuck around and not get back for you-know-who, eh?” Tom nudges him in the ribs on each word, like Taron has somehow forgotten the most important work meeting of his career on Monday.

The music starts to rev back up and Leo drops in a new beat, layered with syncopated synths that sound vaguely familiar to Taron, and he starts to bop his head along, watching what Leo does, bringing up a beautiful orchestral string track, a techno-electric piano part, and then finally, Elton’s looping chorus over Pink’s digitized, gravelly vocal on her revamped club version of  _ Bennie and the Jets _ fully comes in and hits Taron’s senses with a roar of recognition, the whole crowd picking it up and flying with it. Taron beams from ear to ear.

“Whoa…” Tom says, stares ahead at Leo kind of awestruck, and Taron knows that feeling.

“Well, that’s a fuckin’ sign,” Bleddyn says and squeezes Taron’s shoulders. Taron just nods along, smiling.

“I’ll make it work.”

***

“I threw in a little surprise just for you,” Leo says, barely intelligible with a mouthful of Taron’s tongue. Leo walks them back onto his big bed and Taron lands astride him with a  _ thwump _ on the thick duvet, and yes, Taron would absolutely have been this easy for him in the trailer, but the hotel bed is a nice upgrade.

Taron climbs his thighs, biting and sucking kisses along Leo’s jaw to nip his earlobe lightly between his teeth. “I heard...I loved it, thank you,” he murmurs and Leo shivers, brings his hands around to get a good grasp on Taron’s backside. 

“You’re gonna play him in a film, then?” Leo asks suddenly, tilting his head back from Taron for a second, and it takes that long for Taron to process that he means Elton, right. “That’s why you’re meeting him?” Leo’s fingers grip the fleshy undersides of his thighs and ass, making Taron squirm.

He’s taken aback a bit, gnaws on his lip. “Well, I’ve already met him, kind of, but yeah, that’s what they’re thinking. I’m kind of nervous about it. And, full disclosure, I also kind of want to stay here for your set. So I’m...a bit rattled,” Taron spills, probably more information than Leo needed when they should be getting naked right now but Leo  _ asked,  _ didn’t he?

“Nervous why? I think you’d be brilliant, actually,” Leo says, shifts Taron a little off his lap and over on the bed, rucking his t-shirt up as he goes and smoothing his hands up over Taron’s chest.

“Ehhhh, okay, don’t laugh. Feel like I’m not, like, gay enough. I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m plenty queer but like,  _ Elton John gay  _ is a whole other...oh, that’s nice, yeah, do that,” Taron trails off, losing his thought completely as Leo works his hand and mouth up his chest and sucks firmly onto one of Taron’s nipples.

“Oh, I think you’re plenty gay,” Leo laughs, flicking over tongue over where he’s just bitten. “But just to be safe, we’d better get you in proper order,” he says and slides his hand down Taron’s pants.

“Oh...fuck, yeah, right. No, you’re right, I’m probably just...being neurotic,” Taron gasps as Leo wraps his hand firmly around him and strokes. 

“Mmm hmm,” Leo agrees, stroking him hard as Taron reaches up toward him and tries to get his hand in to work Leo’s cock at the same time. Leo helps, gets his knees up higher on the bed and closer to Taron so he can get his jeans unzipped. Taron looks up at Leo, licks his thumb and rubs it wet over the tip of Leo’s cock, urges him closer still as he pulls on the head.

“Come up here. Wanna suck you off,” Taron says, both of them working on getting their stupid tight jeans down over their thighs at once, and Leo grins.

“Yeah, I think you’ll be just fine in that role,” he laughs, darts his tongue out between his teeth to lick at Taron’s groin, his hip, as Taron scoots further up the bed and pulls Leo with him.

Taron gets him where he wants him, takes a second to survey Leo’s tight abs, his thickly furred chest and his frankly gorgeous stiff cock bobbing in front of his face. 

He clearly takes a moment too long, thinking. “You wanna shag first and  _ then _ decide your future?” Leo teases, his fingertips toying at the corners of Taron’s lips.

“Fuck. Yeah, I definitely need more than one night with this, though,” Taron replies. He pulls Leo by the thighs and lets the soft tip of his cock press to his lips. 

Leo shudders, hips thrusting lightly against Taron’s face, grimacing and grunting a bit as Taron opens his mouth and takes the whole head inside, sucking gently. 

He smiles around Leo’s cock, takes him down.

***

“Okay okay. I can figure this out,” Taron babbles, trying to clear his head from having just come twice in a fairly short amount of time. Leo doesn’t  _ stop,  _ still touching, teasing Taron’s soft dick with his fingers, tickling up and down along the nerves that run up under the head to see if he can get hard again, and it’s making Taron  _ crazy.  _ “Just have to get back to London in reasonable shape by 10 Monday morning.”

Leo smirks between his thighs, presses a kiss to his overheated skin. “10...tha’s easy, you can do that. I can be anywhere by 10am. I mean, we can just get a helicopter?”

Taron’s eyes go wide, and he pushes himself up, weakly, onto his elbows so he can meet Leo’s eye. “We can just...do that.”

Leo laughs, pulls himself up Taron’s body to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Of course we can.” 

***

In between sleeping, fucking, soaking in the hot tub and rehydrating, they manage to make some very complicated and  _ expensive _ travel arrangements, including changing Leo’s flight to leave from London, and get Taron back to his camper to meet the boys and grab some of his clothes. He dodges all their questions and promises them more dirt later, but he knows he’s not really going to give them any. He  _ likes  _ this guy. 

“Okay, but we’re taking your camper,” Tom says, like that’s a fairly obvious trade-off.

“Sure,” Taron says, grins and hugs them. “You can just take it back to Aber, if that makes more sense? Whatever you want, thanks mates.”

“You’re so happy and gross when you’re getting laid, ugh,” Tom teases him, wipes Taron’s sloppy kiss off his cheek.

“No, this is very good for you. I like it,” Bleddyn says, squeezing him. “We’ll meet you at 2, eh?”

Leo has a soundcheck in the afternoon, and then they catch Leo’s favorite band. They’re sort of electro-funk, with jangly guitars, a gorgeous female bassist, a bloke who raps in half English, half Spanish. They’re  _ really  _ good and Taron is impressed with Leo’s eclectic taste. 

They hang out, make out, and nap a while in Leo’s trailer, then eat dinner and listen to whatever bands they can hear on the nighttime main stage. 

“Can we...out of an abundance of caution and over preparation, of course, maybe shag again?” Taron asks, wrapping one leg around Leo’s back. 

Leo groans and kisses Taron thoroughly, then climbs to his knees between Taron’s thighs, taking his calves in his hands and pulling them firmly around himself. Leo looks down at him, bites his lip. “It’s weird...I really did feel like I knew you. I don’t mean from movies. Like I knew you, but I didn’t.”

Taron feels himself blush, but lifts his hips up to meet Leo’s anyway. “Yeah. Crazy, but, I felt like that too.” 

Leo gets them both ready, pushes up into him, Taron biting into his shoulder as his hips settle into it, opening and taking Leo all the way in. “Fuck,” Leo says with a growl. “You’re gonna crush your big gay meeting.”

***

Taron is stupidly satiated by the time he sends Leo off to yet another set, with a kiss and a “break a leg,” which he has to keep saying now, lest Leo have a bad set.

Taron doesn’t actually think a bad set for Leo is possible. He watches from the grassy darkness with his best boys and tall trees all around them, amazed again at how  _ good _ Leo is at this thing, this craft, that was foreign and anxiety-inducing to him just a couple of weeks ago. 

Bleddyn had a tiny bit of his usual stuff to get rid of and they all shared it, just a little something to make the edges of things feel soft, not enough to hurt him in the morning. Leo plays his best set yet, reading the crowd and playing to their vibe, to the lights, winding everyone up to a peak around 4am. He times the changes in mood and tempo perfectly so the first hint of dawn breaks through the skyline on a perfect crest of sound, dropping everyone who stayed all night, in their varying states of altered minds, gently into the other side of daylight. 

The crowd cheers appreciatively when Leo winds it down and sends them all back to their campsites and their regular lives, spirited and invigorated. Taron hugs the boys and makes them promise to sleep for a few hours before they drive anywhere, and Bleddyn swears they will.

“Don’ worry about us, go get your man. And your job, mate.” Tom thumps him on the back and they send him off, Leo waiting for him at the side of the stage.

They get their stuff, settle into the back of a comfy SUV with coffee, juice and donuts, and ride quietly down highways to the small airport where they’ll get their  _ ridiculous _ orange helicopter back to London.

“I think...I think I thought we’d be able to make out in here,” Taron says over the whirr of the rotors before they take off. Leo laughs and grabs him for one last kiss before they have to put on headsets to talk, and sit back properly in their seats.

“The pilot will hear you once we’re in the air, so none of...that kinda talk. Unless you have an exhibitionist kink?”

Taron smirks at him. “I’m an  _ actor.” _

Leo laughs, puts on his headset, and settles in. In a few minutes they’re in the air, and Taron is exhausted but also too excited to keep looking down at the green land and rivers passing underneath them. It’s loud, but also rhythmically soothing, and Leo soon falls asleep against his headrest. Taron fights it for a few more minutes, but his eyelids get heavier and heavier and eventually win.

Leo wakes him softly so he can enjoy the view flying in over London, all the landmarks easy to pick out from this altitude. It’s marvelous, and Taron doesn’t feel too poorly, considering he’s been up all night and just slept 90 minutes in a helicopter.

“Right. So, we did that,” Taron says, a little giddy as they get picked up by another car, another driver.

Leo reaches for his hand across the backseat. “And you have...a whole half hour to spare, look at that.”

“You’re taking me and then going straight to Heathrow?”

Leo nods and checks his phone. “I’ll make it, don’ worry. Call me when you’re done.” Leo puts both hands on Taron’s face and kisses him, sweet and hot and a little sad. “You just...go break a leg.” 

***

Taron doesn’t have to say much at this meeting, mostly just looks meaningfully at Elton and nods at the right time while people talk around them. They want him to do it, it’s clear, and Elton seems thrilled with everything, including Taron, finally falling into place.

“You’re going to be, let’s be honest, in a bigger spotlight because of this. And you’re going to spend a year or more of your life talking about me, and my big gay life, and they’re going to ask, because they’re terribly nosy, about yours. Are you ready for that?” Elton asks him, putting his hand over Taron’s. 

Taron has a few possible answers to this pop into his head — that they already ask him all kinds of personal things and make assumptions — but the truth is he wants to do a good job and make Elton proud, and tell Elton’s story, and that’s not about him.

He sits forward and takes a sip of his water, pats Elton’s hand on top of his own. 

“Thank you, very kind. Uh, yeah, I don’t really care, frankly. I’m perfectly comfortable with my sexuality, but I’m not going out on a press tour for it. I’m going to do this for you, for telling your story. So they can ask me, whatever, but I’m not their story to tell.”

Elton nods and squeezes his hand. “At least not yet anyway, eh?” he says, and everyone laughs. Elton gives him a wink and Taron shakes a few hands all around, and then they’re free.

They have a natural affinity for each other which seems promising for the project, and Taron feels at ease as they walk out together. Elton pulls him close for a hug of congratulations.

“Oh, my darling boy,” Elton says, taking in a breath as they embrace. “Don’t have to ask what you were getting up to last night, do I then?”

Taron coughs a weak laugh, feels himself blush from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. “It was actually this morning, I think. My god, I’m terribly sorry. I met someone...incredible. It’s been quite a weekend. Time kind of...gets all wobbly, you know?”

Elton laughs and claps him on the back. “I do know, or at least I sort of remember. You’ll have to refresh my memory. Come, let me take you to breakfast, you’re going to tell me all about it. Spare  _ no _ detail.”

***

Breakfast with Elton rolls right into lunch by his pool, and it’s hours before Taron finally gets back to his own flat. He has a missed call and a voicemail from Leo that he doesn’t even bother listening to, just calls him back as he collapses into his bed.

“I was getting a bit worried,” Leo says on the other end when he picks up. Taron smiles and clutches his phone close, snuggles down under his covers.

“Elton likes to talk. And ask a lot of questions. Where are you now, by the way?”

“Barcelona. S’gorgeous. So did you get the part, movie star?”

“I did indeed. We’re doing it,” Taron says, grinning into the phone. He hears Leo clap his hands together.

“That is brilliant. Aw, Taron I’m so excited for you. You’re gonna...wow, you’re going to be brilliant.”

Taron settles with the idea of it, feels himself relax even more. “He had a Scottish lover, you know. He’ll be, well, someone playing him will be, in the film too.”

“Well then. Lucky for them, you’re bringin’ some real life experience to that aspect,” Leo says, his voice rich and thick on the phone line.

Taron hums. “Hmmm. Miss you already.”

Leo is quiet for a moment. “I  _ like _ you,” he says, matter of factly. Taron smiles, a sleepy grin falling over his face.

“Yeah. Yeah, I like you too.”

“Do you want to...I don’t know when you start shooting but. I have to go to Tokyo in a few days.”

“Tokyo?” Taron repeats, one eye popping slightly awake as his eyebrow arches.

“Yeah. Do you wanna maybe come with me to Tokyo?”

“Hmmm. Bet you want to go to the Robot Bar,” Taron says.

“I’ve heard it’s pretty cool, yeah,” Leo says. “Do the robots actually make the drinks?”

Taron laughs. “No, sadly, the robots don’t make the drinks. But do you know what I love in Tokyo?”

“What’s that?” Leo asks.

“The fried chicken,” Taron says, already halfway there in his mind. 

“Really? ‘Cause I’ve had Korean fried chicken and that’s...like  _ really  _ good,” Leo counters.

“Hmmm,” Taron murmurs, sleepy and already hungry again. “I’ll have to try that. Maybe next trip though. I have a month until I start rehearsals.”

Leo takes a deep breath. “Okay then. You get some sleep. And then you’ll meet me in Tokyo and take me to the best fried chicken.”

“Okay. Sure, why not,” Taron says, trying not to fall asleep just yet. “Oh, and you should know. I’m a bloody inexplicably huge star in Japan and get mobbed at the airport and chased down the street. So. See you then. Lots of love.”

Leo sighs softly on the phone, and Taron can hear his smile. “Can’t wait.”

**Author's Note:**

> [This is Leo's made-up favorite band](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DOt_eXxbhT8) from the festival, and the title comes from this song.
> 
> [This is Richard Madden's actual favorite EDM act](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4jBDnYE1WjI) and he suggested this song for the film. It's pretty great.


End file.
